Everyone Bleeds Red
by MSAllySomereva
Summary: This is a collection of one-shots about the different members of the Black family and their often horrible and disturbed lives. Some canon and some not so much. This has some ideas in it from Pup and Fawn and Sins of Us and Reality. Enjoy! Sirius/OC, Harry/Ally (my OC) and Jenna Potter (my OC) amongst many more, Read and Review people. Rated T for language.
1. Chapter 1- Sirius Black II 1877-1952

**Disclaimer: I don't own HP just the OCs that you do not recognise and the plotline**

**A/N: Hey guys, this is my newest fanfic, it is about different members of the Black family both canon and OCs. Please let me know what you think and if you have any ideas for one-shots about specific Blacks or people married into the Black family.**

**Read and Review please.**

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><p><strong>Everyone Bleeds Red…<strong>

**~It is not until we realise that we are more similar than we are different that we will truly understand that everyone bleeds red. We are not so different, we are the same but wish to be so much more~ **

**Hesper Black (nee Gamp)**

_Chapter 1- Sirius Black II- 1877-1952_

As the oldest child of Phineas Nigellus Black and his wife Ursula Flint, a certain modicum of behaviour was expected of Sirius Black II. He was named after his paternal uncle, he was meant to be a man who ruled with an iron fist and through fear rather than through respect.

But by the closing hours of his life, Sirius Black II had learnt a valuable lesson, one that he wished that he had learnt long ago, that blood purity did not matter. Sirius could see more than his younger brothers, Cygnus and Arcturus and even his little sister, Belvina ever had. Only Phineas, a brother who had been disinherited so long ago for championing Muggle-born Rights had understood this, now as he entered the final hours of his life, Sirius put his shaking quill to paper and began to write.

_To whoever may find and read this,_

_I, Sirius Black II, son of Phineas Nigellus Black and Ursula Flint, do offer you a small amount of advice on what is to come. There is a storm brewing, a storm much deadlier than one Wizarding kind has ever seen, I am not what they call a bigot but nor am I foolish enough to champion Muggle-born rights. However, even I can see the prudence in allowing new blood into our bloodlines._

_I can see the devastation of this family, a family who once not so long ago was at the highest our stars could rise, but are now closer to destitute. I can see the folly of inbreeding, from the betrothal of cousins, Walburga and Orion, I truly worry. Bellatrix is already unhinged even at this young and tender age. I hope the descendant that reads this, who I know will fulfil my wishes of being truly pure of heart- Toujours Pur (after all this motto is to mean pure of heart and not of blood as many of this family now believe), will once again help this family regain what was lost…_

Here the writing proved to be too much for the ailing Lord Black, Sirius knew all too well that the curse of the Blacks was to produce some of the best in many fields but aging was the cost of interbreeding. He was not very old at all, for a wizard the age at which the Blacks lost their lives was a true tragedy.

Sirius could feel his blood being pumped slower and slower, he knew that the end was very near. Using his last burst of energy the Lord Black looked at the Family Tapestry, the one that only the head of the family had access to and sighed. Even the act of sighing took a lot of energy out of him, the November air which was barred from the Manor seemed to have crept into his old bones and rattled him from the inside. As Sirius looked at the name of the brother he had lost so long ago, he felt a tear run down his wrinkled cheek, his grey eyes haunted by the ghosts of the past.

Grabbing the quill one final time, Sirius breathed his last. Closing his eyes for the very last time, Sirius smiled at the thought of once again being reunited with his wife, Hesper, he smiled as he thought of his last words and hoped that he had not been too late in learning what she had wanted him to know all those years ago.

It would not be until many, many years later that someone would read his last words…

_Blacks' may never show weakness, we may be proud and haughty. But…we must remember that no matter what. __Everyone Bleeds Red…_


	2. Chapter 2- Phineas Black 1881-1976

**Disclaimer: Still don't own HP just the OCs and most of the events in the storyline**

**A/N: Thanks to those who favourited and followed, please keep up the support it helps. Reviews are inspiration so please R&R with any ideas and comments. :P**

**Enjoy!**

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><p><strong>~Do what's right and not what's easy. Life is seldom for ease, but choose the right path and you will be rewarded~<strong>

**Jane Black (nee Thomas)**

_Chapter 2- Phineas Black 1881-1976_

It had been many years since Phineas Black had thought about his family, he used this term very lightly even in his head, but now as he watched the funeral procession from afar he remembered the times from long ago.

He was now an old man, not yet frail, but still old. Sometimes he found himself wondering how he came to be the one Black out of all of his siblings to buck the trend, as a teenager growing up with his siblings; Phineas always had thought that the one to marry a Muggle would be Belvina.

His sister had always been an idealist, as a child Belvina had had a curious nature that was hard to satisfy, she was always the one with the ridiculously romantic notions of marrying a Muggle. Never in his wildest dreams had it ever occurred to Phineas that he would fall in love with one.

He had been a young man when he had stumbled across some of the most unsavoury of wizards, ones that followed his father's rather demented teachings at Hogwarts, entertaining Muggle-baiting. Phineas had never taken himself for a knight in the Muggle tales of old, later he would blame his sister for forcing him to read the ridiculous tales of King Arthur to her, but at the time he was only looking at the beautiful young woman who was being lifted up in the air and left to hang by those fiends.

Phineas had sprung from his hiding place in the bushes where he had been stargazing and scared away the wizards, for his countenance; so similar to his father was truly worrying. For though Phineas Nigellus Black may have had many faults, even he would not have encouraged a hobby such as this. The young woman was startled but she quickly recovered, she looked at Phineas who despite having rescued her was scowling rather furiously at the fact that she was still standing in front of him and had not run away.

"Why have you not yet run," Phineas had finally asked of the beautiful lady, for the silence had gone on for too long and she had made no move to walk away.

"Did you wish for me to," she had returned, her voice was melodic.

"Well, surely you would not have wanted to stay with me," he had asked in astonishment, Phineas was a Slytherin, he could see what this young woman had intended, she had intended to remain with him.

"You did rescue me did you not, I owe you a debt," she had offered in response, her milky-white skin had glowed in the light of his Lumos charm.

He had scoffed, "Believe me, Miss, you do not want to be in my debt, I am not a pleasant man. Nor do I consort with Muggles like you."

It was only after she had laughed that Phineas realised that he had just said Muggle rather than Mudblood, and that he was actually entranced by the melodic nature of her voice.

"You may not wish to have me in your debt, but I always repay what I owe, it was the way I was raised. Perhaps you are different than what you appear I am a Muggle but I know of your kind," she offered. The young woman observed the aristocratic young man in front of her, he was handsome, in a haughty way but it was obvious that he had no idea what his true feelings were, regardless of how well he hid behind a mask.

Phineas groaned, "I suppose that I cannot persuade you to leave me alone," he had a feeling that his hope for this to be the case was futile and he was right.

"I owe you my life, good sir, indeed in this culture you would be expected to take me as a mistress or even a bride," her caramel eyes glittered in the moonlight.

Phineas held back the sudden bout of hysteria that this comment made and went to turn around, and as he left the beautiful woman behind him, he was aware of the words that she called after him.

"I have a feeling that we will meet again, Mr Black."

Phineas spun to face the young woman, but was only faced with the darkness of the night. He did not remember telling her his name or asking for hers. But of one thing he was sure, he would meet her again.

Now, almost 50 years from that day, the story of how Phineas had met Jane Thomas (for that was the beautiful woman's name) had become the tale of preference for his grandchildren.

Phineas had indeed met Jane Thomas again, because something about that young woman who could have been no more than 15 to his 17 had lured him in. She had ignited the spark within him for fighting against what his family believed in, Phineas had somehow become his namesake, his father's worst nightmare.

Instead of following the Pureblood agenda that his older brother Arcturus followed and the one that Cygnus had always believed in, Phineas had found himself doing something that he would have thought Belvina would have done. He was fighting for Muggle-borns.

It had been hard at first, but as Jane Thomas had told him the second time they had met by which point she was working with wizards to try to get equal rights for Muggle-borns, given the fact that her younger brother was one, "the right choices are the hardest to make". Those were the words that had taken root in his brain and the ones he embraced when he asked her on a date, and the words that continued to follow him throughout the rest of his life as he ignored his disinheriting, and even as he married a Muggle-born.

Now after all these years as Phineas watched his little sister's body be buried in the family crypt from afar, he found himself not missing the family he had left behind, but rather the company of his wife who was still at home awaiting his return. Phineas never thought that he could be the one to break free from his family, but here he was, the happiest of them all.

As Phineas returned home, he was glad that he followed the hard path, because it did bear the very best fruit. The rewards of love and happiness were much sweeter than the gold he had lost, and the family he left behind.


	3. Chapter 3- Arcturus Black II 1884-1969

**Disclaimer: I don't own HP but I own the ideas in the fanfic for the most part.**

**A/N: Hey guys, I know it's been a while since I updated any of my stories. But I hope that this update helps to keep you happy. Please read and review!**

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><p><strong>~Through thick and through thin, family is what matters the most~<strong>

**Lysandra Black (nee Yaxley)**

_Chapter 3- Arcturus Black II- 1884-1969_

There were not many things that haughty Arcturus Black ever admitted to regretting, not even to himself. However, there was one thing that always irritated him in the back of his mind was the fact that he disinherited his daughter for loving a man.

Arcturus, if he was being quite honest with himself was a coward, he was no Gryffindor, nor did he wish to claim such a title. If anything he would have preferred to be known as a man of principle, unfortunately searching for such a title had garnered him the reputation of being the iron fist.

Arcturus knew that his wife must be rolling over in her grave; he had completely forgotten all that she had taught him. Lysandra Yaxley came from a family of blood purists much like the Blacks, but she didn't hold with such beliefs, instead she believed in loving everybody for what and who they were. She had taught him many things, but the one belief that she was most keen to impress upon her doting husband, even as she lay dying was that their three daughters must never be penalised for loving.

As Arcturus lay on his own death bed he could see the merits of her words, the only daughter that had truly followed her heart had been his middle daughter, Cedrella. Against his wishes she had married Septimus Weasley, a poor but good man, even though the Blood Purist in him condemned the Weasley, the loving father in him saw the good in the man, the former thought prevailed.

So he had lost her.

Cedrella had always been the most like her mother; she alone had fully understood the teachings of the mother who she had lost at such a young age. Cedrella may have inherited the patrician beauty of the Blacks but she had the good heart of her mother. Arcturus regretted disinheriting his daughter so much, but it was too late. He had forgotten Lysandra's words and it had cost him dearly.

A figure moved into the bedroom as Arcturus breathed laboriously, Callidora Longbottom looked at the pathetic figure of her father and sighed.

"You miss her," it was posed as a question, but Callidora was making a statement and both of them knew it.

Arcturus could not even muster the strength to disagree, "Yes," he admitted.

To his shock his oldest born said nothing more as she sunk down in a seat next to his bed. She simply reached over and took his hand, the frail one looked even weaker within her own.

"Charis is not coming," he asked weakly of his oldest, another regret he would always have was that his youngest had married as a Black should, but not as her mother would have wished, her husband was not one she loved.

Callidora sighed deeply, her worry lines appearing for just the briefest of seconds before she responded, "No."

The word fell into a defeated silence, then, "I am sorry," the old man wheezed out, shocking his daughter, Blacks' seldom apologised.

Callidora raised a questioning eyebrow, "For what are you sorry," in her opinion her father was far from perfect but his death bed was not a good place to bring up past failures.

"For not allowing you to marry who you wished, for not allowing you to love-"

Callidora cut him off, "I am happy with my life, father, yes, perhaps not in the way mother would have wanted it but I am happy. I have a son and a grandson, Frank shows good potential. Harfang is a good man and I have grown to love him most dearly. We all did make our own decisions in life, father, whether prompted by you or not. Perhaps you are right, Cedrella was always the most like mother, she is by far the happiest of us, but I am not unhappy."

Arcturus huffed out a laugh, "What of Charis?"

There was no response and Arcturus painfully turned his head so as to look into his daughter's green eyes, the features of his wife haunting from the features of his daughter's face.

"She too made her own decisions, one way or another," Callidora finally began, "she chose this path, you never truly told us not to marry for love, you just never favoured it the way mother perhaps wanted. Charis was never brave enough or clever enough to do anything other than the obvious. She spent her time moping or flirting; she made the match she thought was so brilliant, yet her family lies in tatters."

There was a pause as Callidora gathered her thoughts before continuing, "The Sorting Hat told me that with my wit Ravenclaw was perhaps the best choice for me, but I asked for Slytherin. Cedrella was recommended for Gryffindor but asked for the same, but Charis who never truly knew our mother was a true Black much like the ones that Grandfather Phineas wanted."

"She is not happy," Arcturus pointed out.

"One can always find unhappiness, father, happiness is rarer to find," a voice came from the doorway.

Arcturus' breath caught in his throat as the woman entered, her black locks had been teased into a bun, her graceful gait brought her to her father's side and Cedrella Black slipped into a seat opposite her older sister.

Her patrician beauty signified her birth into the Black family but her eyes belied her Yaxley roots, age had done nothing but make her beauty grow, she did truly look a lot like her mother now. Her appearance acted as a balm for the weary old man, both his daughters could see it, he was nearing peace but he was still hanging on.

"You came," Callidora's statement held a note of astonishment, she had seen her sister more often than Charis or Arcturus having mixed in similar social gatherings but her appearance had shocked her.

"Of course I came, I am not so petty as to not visit a dying man," Cedrella scoffed, her eyes flashing in the dim lighting of the room.

"I'm-"Arcturus' apology was cut off by his daughter's glare.

"I don't blame you, I am happy. There was a time when I would have kicked and screamed about the injustices of being disinherited but I cannot say that I am unhappy with where my life has taken me. I have three sons, one of them is expecting his first born next autumn, or so the glow of my new daughter-in-law tells me. I am not unhappy, father, you set me free and for that I am truly grateful."

"You do not hate me, then," his question sounded pathetic even to his own ears.

Cedrella's eyes belied nothing as she thought over the question, "A wise man once said that there is a very fine line between love and hate, I truly cannot say that I hate you for anything. I think that my love for you and everything you did for us all when we were children makes me truly unable to see any of the bad. No, I truly cannot hate you."

It seemed that a great burden had been lifted from the old man's shoulders and he seemed to sag with relief.

"Charis is petty," Callidora remarked, "She does not truly understand that her unhappiness is of her own making."

"She's bitter," Cedrella added in, the two sisters had never gotten along with Charis, "she chose to be bitter and not see the good qualities in her marriage. Her husband is far richer than Septimus and comes from good breeding like Harfang, but she is unhappy in spite of the good things in her life."

"She has children, more than one healthy child, I have lost my daughter," Callidora's eyes betrayed some of the pain as she finally admitted her sorrow to her father, "but she does not appreciate her good fortune. She chooses to focus on the bad, and that can never be your fault."

Thus surrounded by a female version of his wife in his oldest daughter's blonde locks and a feminine cast of his own visage with his wife's eyes, each grasping a hand, Arcturus Black finally found peace.

Never knowing that his three daughter's would never be in the same room again, and that when Charis would die, her two sisters though visiting her grave would not truly shed a tear. Arcturus would never know that though his daughters were so different that they had each truly learnt something from their mother, even if they didn't learn it the easy way.

Callidora, Cedrella and Charis, three sister's each more different than the last, but all would bleed red when the time came.

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><p><strong>R-E-V-I-E-W!<strong>


	4. Chapter 4- Belvina Burke 1886-1962

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything but the storyline and the OCs, the rest belong to JKR. **

**A/N: Hey guys, sorry it's been so long since I've updated anything but real-life and writer's block are both pains. Hopefully you like this next instalment and read and review. I would love to hear what you think and which member of the Black family you would like to see appear next.**

**Ally xx**

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><p><strong>~But what's so different between Muggles and Wizards, surely we're made of the same flesh? We bleed the same colour, don't we? ~<strong>

**Belvina Black (aged 6)**

_Chapter 4- Belvina Burke (nee Black) - 1886-1962_

It was ironic, Belvina Black decided as she paused by the Black family tapestry, it had been many years since she had seen it, but then again it had been many years since she had been in the family manor. Somehow, despite being the most liberal of her siblings she had managed a marriage to the least tolerant spouse. She did not love Herbert Burke; in fact she hated him with a passion. She had done her duty as a spouse, she had given him an heir, a second son and a daughter, but that was the best of their relationship, the two simply did not get along.

Herbert was abusive in many different ways. He was greedy and always wanted more than he could have and more than what he was deserving of. Belvina had watched as her sons were pushed to breaking point by her husband, whilst she was left powerless against him. Belvina had lost her innocence since her marriage and she knew it. Sometimes she wished that she wasn't a Black and didn't have a duty to fulfil. It would have made her life much easier and much more bearable and that was the truth.

Her eyes scanned the family tree; her eyes lingered over the name of her oldest brother, then over the burnt patch that signified the name of her favourite older brother, Phineas. She wondered what had become of him, she missed him. The tear that ran down her cheek betrayed her and she grimaced, what would her father have thought if he had seen what she had made of her life?

She didn't even have to pause to answer that rhetorical question in her mind, she already knew the answer. He would have been incensed, not only had she been glad when her husband died at the wand of Gellert Grindewald for failing to bring him useful information but her two sons had perished also, yet she could not bring herself to care.

Okay, so perhaps she was being a little dishonest for the latter part. Belvina like any other mother had loved her children, she could not stand however, the men that they had been forced to become. Belvina wished that she had been a bit more like a Gryffindor and less like a Slytherin, and then maybe she would have been able to protect her children better. But, Belvina was no Gryffindor, she was a Slytherin and she had done whatever it had taken her to survive.

She wondered as to whether her choices made her a coward, she chose to do what her father wanted her to, fearing the same punishment as her disowned brother. Now she realised that she had been naïve, the Black name had gotten sullied, it no longer meant all that it had. Belvina finally saw that Phineas had been right to leave and never look back; it was the true mark of someone who believed in themselves. Perhaps it was time that she tracked down her favourite brother; after all, it would not do to live in the past when the present and future have so much to offer.

Her true source of happiness had been her brother; she knew that Phineas would be happy to hear from her. It was time to swallow her pride and fear and pay a visit to the sibling she so admired, she just hoped that it was not too late.

Belvina's current source of happiness came in the form of her daughter; Gemma Burke had become Gemma Bones and had lived the life that her mother could only have dreamed of. Belvina smiled as her eyes saw her name and from it Gemma's and from that Edgar Bones, Edward Bones and Amelia Bones, all three of her grandchildren showed such promise, it excited her.

The Bones family were everything that she wished her family had been, her statement that Muggles were not so different to them had merited censure in her home, but in the Bones' it was seen as a truth. Belvina could not have been happier for her daughter; she just wished that her own family could see it too, before it was too late.

But deep in her heart, Belvina knew that by the time her family came to realise what she had known for so long, it would be too late.

The picture of the battlefield, Black blood split in the name of Purity and bigotry, spilt alongside and meshed with the blood of the "enemy", the blood of the Muggles and Muggle-borns. She feared that by the time the redness would be seen, that it would be too late. The family would be in tatters. Or what was left of it, Belvina was no seer, but she could foretell the pain that would follow her family for generations. But hopefully she would be long gone and the others would have that as their cross to bear.

As she slowly moved past the tapestry, Belvina never thought that her prophecy would be fulfilled, that by the time a Black truly realised this it would be too late. Too many lives lost all because they failed to realise that everyone bleeds red.


End file.
